


Screw Me Happy

by CollarsAndCurses



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enemies With Benefits, Fighting As Foreplay, Flower Lube, Frenemies, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: Telatis Bonesinger has no friends and no desire to have any. What he does desire, however, is a way to escape his woes and responsibilities - though having a tussle-turned-romp with a Troll he hates isn't at the top of his list. Or so he says.





	Screw Me Happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorvusConstellation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvusConstellation/gifts).



> Written for my friend Corvii who does absolutely fantastic artwork - crowonthedownlow on Tumblr, check em out! - and inspired me with a picture of their two WoW OCs fucking on a log. Enjoy.

The path of a Paladin was often not as easy as the crusaders and generals made it seem to the common folk. They sat atop thrones of praise and belief, commanding armies who saw them as holy saviours or kings. Meanwhile, those who neither led nor followed were left to struggle with faith and survival in equal measure. A young Blood Elf by the name of Telatis Bonesinger counted himself amongst the latter. He picked up jobs in the guild where he could, but nobody truly appreciated him, no matter how hard he tried. He often wanted to stop trying, show them what they would be missing, but his damn stubborn pride wouldn't let him.

Instead, he would find distractions from his troubles. Reading, studying, wandering the streets and wilds alike. One pleasantly warm evening, he chose a nearby woodland, with trees so tall and thick you could live in them - creatures probably did, he’d quickly realised, hand resting upon the hilt of his sword as he walked. He'd been there many times before and soon found his way to a familiar clearing. The orange clouds above were reflected in a small, shimmering lake, leaves dancing on its surface as a gentle breeze blew them from the trees.

With a deep inhale and then a sigh, Telatis lowered himself onto a nearby stump. He traced the swirls of age in the wood with long fingers, leaving slight trails of magic along them; thin, golden threads that glowed for a second and then faded.

It was silly, to let himself get so lost in the patterns under his fingers and thoughts in his head. No sooner had he realised that he should probably be heading back - not that anyone would miss him, but he would miss his evening meal - his back was hitting the stump with a hard _thud_ as something gave a sharp tug on his hair. He reached for his sword, but a strong hand with thick fingers got there first, tossing the weapon a few feet away and then grabbing his wrist.

The Elf snarled up at his attacker, magic flickering when his eyes met with huge tusks and pale, green skin. “Narohk,” he growled, struggling in vain against the Troll’s grip.

“Yo, _Telatis_.” Narohk grinned around the word, malicious and hungry, like a predator. It made his ‘prey’ shiver.

Most would ask what was desired of them, or attempt some sort of escape, but they both knew that the capture, the fighting, was just a formality. Telatis twisted and brought his foot up above his head for a kick. Narohk dodged it, relinquishing his grip on the Elf’s golden braid to grab him by the ankle instead. Telatis was pinned by one limb on each side, uncomfortable and frustrated in more ways than one. He managed to land a hit on Narohk’s side, earning a deep growl that went right down his spine. Narohk twisted his wrist in retaliation, smiling at the way Telatis hissed.

It could go on for ten, even twenty, minutes between them until things progressed, each trying to gain the upper hand before the mood shifted, before someone gave in to desire and let themselves be held down and used. Although he hated to admit it, Telatis usually ended up in that role, and today was no different. He needed a distraction and Narohk’s cock would do the job nicely. He still put up a fight, but when the Troll hauled him to his feet, and then _off_ his feet, he couldn't hide his arousal at the display of pure strength.

“Skip the formalities, Rohk,” he panted, frowning and baring his teeth even as his face flushed a deep red. “Just fuck me already.”

Narohk laughed, voice rough with lust. “Well, since ya asked _so_ _nicely_.”

The tearing of cloth was followed by a sharp gasp as one large, three-fingered hand separated Telatis from his clothing, the other able to keep him off the ground by just his wrists, large enough to wrap around both like a binding.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Telatis snarled, drawing his legs together. “I _liked_ that robe.”

“An’ I like it on the ground.” Narohk didn't give him a chance to counter, arranging him less-than-delicately on his hands and knees atop the stump. “So short,” he tutted. “Gotta prop ya up just’ t’ fuck ya proper.”

“You wouldn't know proper if it bit you in the arse,” he spat over his shoulder, trying desperately not to let his gaze fall to the Troll’s tented loincloth and focusing on his shocking orange hair instead. But it failed, as always, eyes drifting magnetically downwards and reminding him of the impressive member, barely concealed in true Troll fashion.

Narohk didn't need to use words to put him in his place after that. A simple shove had him looking forwards again, chest against the wood and ass in the air. His braid was pulled upwards, but only just enough to sting, the loose, front locks of hair falling over his face and arms. He would be grateful for the curtain it provided, hiding the flaring red of his face, if the flush didn't also spread out to the tips of his ears.

“So, _Bonesinger,_ ” Narohk mused as he lifted one leg up next to Telatis. “Am I gonna make ya sing with my _boner_?”

Sun preserve him; his face burned as hot as it's surface, even more so as Narohk laughed, loud and dirty, giving his hair a particularly hard tug. He clearly wanted everyone in a mile radius to know what was going on. Hopefully there was no ‘everyone’, or even ‘anyone’ anywhere that would _ever_ find out.

“Get _on_ with it, you-” any insult Telatis had in mind was replaced by a loud yelp as Narohk delivered a hard smack to his asscheeks.

“Hey! I'm in charge here, boy.” He barked, pulling sharply on the Elf’s braid.

Another smack for good measure, Narohk laughing when Telatis tried to turn a groan into a growl. It was a vain effort and they both knew it; only Tel’s pride stopped him from outright begging to be fucked after that. He kept quiet instead - even after a third whack to his ass - which seemed to do the job of making the Troll pick up the pace and _do something_ other than the inane stroking of his own ego.

The grip on his hair slackened, just slightly, as Narohk’s concentration was momentarily elsewhere and from behind him came a squelching sound, likely belonging to one of those plants that Trolls thought were a good idea to use as lubrication. It worked, you couldn't deny that, but why not just buy some oils at the market, or even make your own? Squeezing liquid out of a plant that was still in the ground was just vile.

Telatis shivered as said liquid was poured over his ass, and not just because that shit was cold and Narohk didn't have the decency to warm it. He probably just dragged one of the plant’s swollen whatevers over and squeezed it straight on. Disgusting. Yet somehow, no matter how many times Telatis told himself that Narohk was foul and uncouth, it didn't stop heat from pooling in his groin when the Troll’s thick, hard cock prodded at his ass. He hated himself for the way he rocked back against it, the way he lowered his forehead onto his arms and gave in, how he moaned when Narohk pulled his hair to make him look up, the sound only getting louder when his other hand grabbed his thigh hard enough to bruise.

But Gods and Sun above, it was wonderful. He would never stop letting Narohk do this to him if he could help it. Sometimes, when he was in the throes of pleasure and begging the troll to go faster, harder, he wondered why he would fight so much to begin with, why he didn't just present himself to be used, at Narohk’s  mercy. Oh, right, because he had _dignity_ … even if the noise he made when Narohk pushed a finger into his hole suggested otherwise.

“Always so tight,” his partner chided. “Should get ya’self some toys, save me the trouble.” He gave a rough twist and it was all Telatis could do not to scream.

It only took one more finger to get him ready, his body so small compared to every aspect of the troll towering over him - something he both loathed and lusted after, the latter drawing out a guttural moan as Narohk finally, _finally,_  swapped his prodding, useless fingers for the swollen head of his cock.

With a couple of harsh thrusts, he was buried to the hilt with Telatis squeezing around him, the Elf fighting not to whimper and squirm against the searing pleasure-pain of being stretched open and filled. The taunting always stopped here on Telatis’ end, the ability to make a sentence lost in a haze of need.

To his disdain, Narohk managed a dirty, growling laugh through his increasingly ragged breaths. “That's right, _Da’shal,_ take it.” He rocked his hips for emphasis, seeming to take pride in the snarl his crude misuse of Elven dialect brought to Telatis’ lips.

 _Da’shal._ It was an insult of Narohk’s own crafting and as close as he would get to speaking in another’s tongue - a shortened and butchered _danil shala,_ or “peak traveller”. No points for guessing what meaning the brute was aiming for. Telatis would almost be impressed, if he wasn't effectively being called a whore.

He pushed his hips back against Narohk in a sort of retaliation, but only one that would distract him from his gloating and bring his attention back to the matter at hand - as if it was something you could get distracted from. _Honestly,_ that Troll. A complete menace who had no right to be so adept at pleasures of the flesh. Except, he was, and Telatis had no reason to argue when this thing between them was a two-way trade.

Narohk held Telatis still as his thrusts became stronger, gripping his hair for no reason other than control, not yanking or pulling but just holding it taught like a leash. Telatis moaned at the thought, the sound escaping in a stuttering slur in spite of his best efforts. More noises followed, eventually answered by Narohk as they both gave in to pleasure and lust, chasing the same goal as both rivals and partners. They each would claim they did it for their own satisfaction, but where was the fun in sex if your lover didn't have a good time as well?

The wood began to leave red marks on their skin as they rutted over it, but it was just another sensation thrown into the mix, another contrast. Narohk found the Elf’s sweet spot, told so by a sharp cry, and kept aiming for it, pounding that same bundle of nerves over and over again. Telatis stayed on his hands and knees, trembling, and let fine traces of magic filter through him, tingling in every inch of his skin and growing with the pooling heat in his gut until he knew Narohk would feel it. Maybe it was to make the Troll fuck him harder - that's what he would say, if asked - but knowing he brought someone else pleasure had its own unique satisfaction.

Narohk curled his braid around his hand to shorten it, keep it taut as he leant over Tel’s back, hips still smacking relentlessly against his arse but the new angle making him _just_ graze his prostate without hitting it. His other hand pinched one of the Elf’s nipples, then twisted it when he gasped, a glorious mixture of sharp pain and a building desire, a heat that crept over him in waves. The teasing was infuriating; Telatis wanted to move so very badly, even if it would make him the desperate whore he insisted he wasn't, but Narohk kept him still with his sheer mass and dominance, stopping completely when he felt Telatis wriggling beneath him.

“Rohk, _fuck_ -” A growl in his ear made Telatis fall silent except for a whimpering moan.

“You want it _rough_?” Narohk punctuated the last word with a harsh snap of his hips, not giving Telatis chance to reply other than crying out. “Ya gonna take it like a good little _slut_?” Another thrust dragged a hoarse imitation of _please_ from the Elf’s throat.

The whole woods would surely be able to hear them - hear _him,_  begging to be wrecked by this heathen, this animal - but Telatis could no longer find the part of him that cared, not when Narohk picked up the pace in earnest. He panted hot and heavy against the wood, either drooling or crying or both, he couldn't tell. He didn't care about that, either, not when he was so close; burning for release, coiled so tight that it _hurt_ , dangling on the very edge of the cliff- until it all came tumbling down at once and he practically sobbed, nails digging into his own palms and gold-white magic behind his eyes as he came hard.

Narohk didn't tease or laugh, just pounded into him, matching the twitching of his hips as if trying to wring every last drop of cum from him before filling him back up. He tossed his head back and growled - _roared_ \- something in his own foul language, flooding Telatis with his hot spend and fucking it into him, so roughly that as Telatis came down from his own high, he was sure his knees had begun to bruise, if not bleed.

That - and everything else - was strangely worth it, though. As much as he protested and spat insults, when Narohk finally let go of his hair, still inside him but with hands now flat next to his own, there was a sort of calm that he never felt anywhere else.

“Heav’ns above,” he murmured, finally realising that yes, he had been drooling, and promptly wiping his face with a grimace. “Shit, Rohk.”

This time when Narohk laughed, there was nothing vicious about it. He just chuckled, breathless and still half-blissed. “Needed that, huh?”

Telatis nodded, losing his verbal reply to a half-pained moan as Narohk pulled out. A mixture of cum and the flower-lube rolled down the backs of his thighs, but all he could do was scowl to himself. Complaining wasn't his strong suit after sex, unfortunately.

“Could’ve asked,” Narohk said, far too casually. “Always up for givin yer plump ass a good poundin.”  He gave said arse a smack that made Telatis yelp, sitting up to glare over his shoulder.

“Oh, bugger off.” It was half-hearted, as much as Tel put on a good frown and wrinkled his nose when Narohk just wiped himself on his loincloth and then let it drop back over his groin. “You owe me a new robe. Again.”

Narohk scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, keep yer hair on.” He picked up Tel’s robe from the floor and shook the dust off. “Ain’t even that bad. Jus’ a few buttons.”

“You owe me a few _buttons_ , again, then _._ ” Telatis snatched back his clothes - trying and failing to hide a wince when he stood up too quick - and hastily pulled them on. At least he had some dignity. He could wash up later.

Narohk shrugged, stretched until his shoulder popped, then picked up the club he'd dropped at some point. “You know where ta find me, Bonesinger.”

Telatis didn't say anything as he watched Narohk stroll casually back to whatever cave he crawled out of. He picked up his sword, straightened his robes and tied them the best he could with his belt and remaining buttons, then left, trying to ignore how the cooling slickness was pushed out of his arse and into his pants with every step. Maybe he'd burn everything and buy new robes himself. The pants had to go, at the very least, but he wasn't short on underclothes - unlike _some people_ , he didn't wear something for days on end until the poor fabric simply gave out.

He would later come to regret leaving his usual spot for meditation in such a state, when he came back the next day to find the... leftovers from their little meeting well and truly dried to the wood. He set the log ablaze and sat to watch it burn. Perhaps it was for the best if he didn't come back; he could feel himself getting a little too attached to these encounters. It wasn't good for someone of his standing - or, eventual standing. He'd find a nice Elven healer and settle down…

Oh, who was he kidding? Even as he put out the last of the embers and left without so much as a prayer, he knew he would come back, with a new robe for Narohk to ruin and more woes to forget. Perhaps it wasn't so bad. At least nobody at the guild cared enough to find out, and as much as he hated to admit it, having a secret, passionate rivalry was kind of thrilling.  



End file.
